GRAND RAPIDS, Mich. – The Ohio Snack Bar Incident, as we now call it, was one of the reasons we were already a bit ornery by the time our bus rolled into Breezewood.

The magical box I obtained at the Cedar Springs antique store last month had what is probably the most gloriously boring foldout postcard set ever.

“Welcome to the Ohio Turnpike, the world’s most modern super highway,” it reads, introducing us to a dozen spectacularly boring views of tollbooths, overpasses and snack bar interiors.

“Beautiful restaurants, gift shops and service stations are located at convenient intervals along the Ohio Turnpike. The great cities of Toledo, Cleveland and Youngstown are easily accessible to those who are travelling for business or pleasure.”

I was headed to none of those places in 2001, but to Washington, D.C. covering a group of activists riding by bus on an overnight trip to attend a massive rally on the National Mall the next day.

We left around dinner time, but were told not to worry. The Ohio Turnpike has rest stops with food courts, and we would stop at one of them.

And we saw several of these newly renovated plazas. We weren’t stopping at them, mind you. And there was growing discontent as the hours passed and we grew hungrier and hungrier.

Somewhere around midnight, the bus finally pulled into a plaza. Alas, it was one of the few that had not yet been renovated. The starving activists stumbled into the building. No Panera Bread. No Wendy’s. No Burger King. No food court.

We were confronted with the ugly truth that only food available for an entire bus was rolling hot dogs and sandwiches mummified in plastic wrap.

It wasn’t pretty. Thank goodness they were pacifists.

Readers, if you have a wonderfully dull or otherwise awful postcard to share, send me a scan and email me a copy. Or, you can mail the card to me at MLive Media Group, 169 Monroe NW, Suite 100, Grand Rapids, MI 49503. I can return the card, if you like.